


And I want. And I need.

by KaelsMiscellany



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Play, F/M, Sass, Season 3B AU, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But the fact that she had decided to go storming out in the middle of the night, in Beacon Hills (the town that liked to see people die), was annoying. When she put herself in danger like that, she put him in danger. He was not okay with that. </p>
<p>And, yes, that's what he was using to justify his irritation with tonight ladies and gentleman. It was the excuse he always used when it came to the entity named Lydia Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I want. And I need.

**Author's Note:**

> So a bit of lengthy backstory, because it's a bit necessary: I joined and RP group a few months ago now ([this one](http://www.gaiaonline.com/forum/series-related-miscellaneous-role-play/accepting/t.87826093/)) and have been doing a Pydia back and forth with the awesome lady (Mari) who does Peter. 
> 
> We've been working on a storyline (which you can read [here](http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=24236945&page=2)) and kind of realized that well, they were most likely going to have sex. But it's Gaia, and we can't exactly post sex. So we decided to write it out anyways and just post it here.
> 
> And if you want a TL;DR ver of the storyline: Lydia, unwillingly with Peter, went to Ireland to find out Banshee stuff. They argue, she nearly dies in a fire, more arguing, some shopping, arguing, she gets kidnapped by hunters and nearly sold off to the highest bidder, Peter rescues her, they argue some more (after Peter saved her from nearly killing herself via nightmare), then came home to Beacon Hills. Where the Nogitsune is unintentionally playing around with Lydia and one of the OC characters, making them go kind of...split personality (kind of the reason I tagged it dub-con, since this isn't _all_ of Lydia), hence why Lydia's more selfish and self-centered ATM.
> 
> Wow...this is the longest author's note I think I've ever done.
> 
> One last thing: title comes from "Animal" By Def Leppard.
> 
> Now you can read!

Considering that the layover had been much longer than the first time around, it was a longer ride. They spent twenty three hours in travel in total, eighteen of those hours on the plane. Then it was an hour by car back into Beacon Hills. All in all—it was fun for no one. By the time they got back into the town it was already eight pm local time.

"So where to now?" The taxi driver asked in a moderately friendly tone, ready to type in the navigation to find the exact address they needed.

After they got into the taxi Lydia found herself staring at the book, feeling poleaxed by what she's gotten from it so far. It's almost worth everything that's happened to her, _almost_.

"The condos on East Hammington road," Peter said after a moment of Lydia's silence.

At least this way they could figure out where she wanted to go after that. If she wanted to face her mom as soon as she got back she could go home right away. If not, then Peter figured that she would at least have a breather back at his apartment. Not that, he figured, it would be a welcomed option for her with how tense it had been. Then again, she had been doing research the entire time so who knows by this point. All he knew was that it felt good to be _home_.

Lydia started at Peter’s words, coming back into herself. She might have been partially aware of what was going on, but her real focus had been on the book. Now she looked around, seeing the familiar sights of Beacon Hills; it almost feels weird coming home, especially with everything that’d happened to her in the past week or so—Christ, only a week?

She opened her mouth to argue about the directions, except… _"I don't have any children.”_ Blinking back tears she looked at the book. At the moment her translation was cursory at best, but she had found something brief mentions about memory loss and family lines. She hated to think that was what was happening to her mom, who was barely fifty and now didn’t remember that she had a daughter. What had her mom thought of all the pictures of Lydia in the house then? Had she thought them some cruel joke from her ex-husband?

Stubbornly Lydia turned to stare out the window, refusing to let Peter at least see her cry, he might smell it, and smell the lie when she denied it, but she’d at least know he didn’t actually _see_ her do it.

Despite how much she wanted to go home, and how much she hated Peter at the moment, she kept her mouth shut. And so without Lydia to refute what Peter had said, the taxi driver drove them to Peter's building. It wasn't that tall, not really, considering that they were still in Northern California. Just a mere four stories; it wasn't even like they'd have to climb up stairs to get there, though that was always an option, because there was a very nice elevator sitting to the side of the lobby. It was one of the few 'apartments' in the area that had a lobby but considering that it was more like a condo structure, where people owned them like homes, that was probably why.

Getting out of the taxi, Peter instantly went to the back to collect the bags. He lifted the handle to one of the largest ones and tilted it towards Lydia in a silent 'here you go' as it was hers.

Lydia tucked all her things into the carry-on bag she’d kept with her, and when she saw Peter offering her her own suitcase a strange twist of anger curled in her. She was worlds better than him, why should she carry her own luggage? On the other hand she didn’t trust him to actually carry it up himself if she didn’t take it.

So with a haughty sniff she snatched it out of his grasp and marched to the front door.

Peter grabbed the other bags, much to the surprise of the taxi man, after paying for the ride. He trailed behind Lydia but even with werewolf abilities that didn't mean he had an extra hand. Now if they wanted to walk _through_ the door he could do that, but not open it up with all the extra baggage taking up room.

"I know the door is well made but if you want to go inside anytime soon to see more doors, you'll have to get the key card out. My hands are a little tied up."

Lydia rolled her eyes, really? "Or you could just set some of the suitcases down and do it yourself. You know, like a _normal_ person."

"Being normal is drastically overrated," Peter said with a smirk of a grin.

If she knew it would do anything she’d enjoy smacking that smug expression off his face. "Where is it?" She asked waspishly.

"Back po—never mind, I'll get it," Peter said in grudging acceptance of the fact that she _might_ have been right.

Doing her best to hold back a mean giggle she gave him a saccharine smile instead. "Afraid I’ll do irreparable harm?" It’s a damn satisfying idea actually.

"To yourself, maybe," he tossed back.

"Please, like any man would let an angry woman anywhere near his groin." Jackson had learned to avoid her like the plague when she got into one of her snits, it had actually been fun to see him jump whenever she got near him.

Peter paused as he looked at her. Were they really having this discussion?

"It's in the back pocket, Lydia, not the front. But good to know that's where your thoughts have been," Peter commented.

She snorted. "The groin’s more than just your crotch Peter."

He slowly dropped some of the bags before reaching into his back pocket to show her the cardkey. It was attached to the hard key of his personal door as well as the car that he had inherited from the will of his oh so loving nurse. He had felt it would have been _rude_ to sell it or give it away. Once more he held out something to Lydia, waiting for her to take it, because it was the practical option. Or so he told himself.

She looked at it like it was toxic waste. "What am I, your bellhop?"

"I'm so sorry for thinking you wanted to get out of the streets quickly, princess," Peter said with a roll of his eyes.

It was like dealing with a toddler. "Fine," she snapped. "Since you’re so averse to setting things down. What? Afraid you’ll get dirty?" With her free hand she snatched it out of his; sneering at him all the while.

“When have I _ever_ been afraid to get my hands dirty?" He asked as he waited for her to open the door while he picked the arm's worth of bags.

Once the doors were open and they made it to the elevator, Peter couldn't help feeling a little less cranky. If being back in Beacon Hills was a relief, then being so close to his own place was even better. He'd have his own bed...his own bathroom and that sounded wonderful. It wasn't just in the familiar sense of his own place, but in the fact that he didn't have to worry about propriety because of Lydia walking in on whatever he was doing.

The muzak in the elevator grated on her nerves, not that she could pinpoint exactly _why_ it did. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her hand around the handle of her suitcase. When the doors finally opened she got out as quickly as she could; though she then had to wait for Peter to catch up to lead the way. Which didn’t improve her mood.

Of course, the fact that he was the last door probably wouldn't have helped Lydia's mood either. Not that Peter was particular fond of the idea himself at the moment, being around someone who was constantly so angry was grating. When they got to his door he set down all the bags and opened it up with the key he snatched back from her at the last moment. Pushing the door open to his two level condo with a sense of 'ta-dah', Peter waited for Lydia to step in before he moved all the bags inside as well. He sat the keys down in the bowl beside the door and closed it.

It didn’t look like he’d changed much since the last time she’d been there, not that she really cared as she happily dropped her suitcase in the hall and made her way into his kitchen, intent on eating. They’d had dinner during their layover, but that had still been hours ago. She didn’t even care if it was crackers at this point, she needed to eat _something_.

As Lydia made her way to his kitchen, Peter had simply moved over to the couch and kicked back. He missed his couch; that human like sentiment had slipped past his guard as he let the relaxation show on his face when he sat down. "I was planning to be gone longer. You won't find anything in the kitchen."

Well she might find half a bottle of red wine in the wine fridge that was built into the wall in the back corner of the kitchen, but Peter suspected that _wasn't_ what she was looking for.  "If you're hungry, there is a bistro that stays open till ten in the courtyard."

Because Lydia enjoyed proving Peter wrong she unearthed a unopened box of lasagna pasta. She strode back into the living room and tore it open, taking out a sheet and snapping it in two with a loud crack. "’Anything’ huh?" Granted the pasta wasn’t exactly _tasty_ , but she had to wait less time to eat if then if they’d gone out.

Peter tilted his head back to look at the pasta. Where had he gotten that? He couldn't even remember when he'd last made lasagna...or attempted to at least. He could cook a beautiful stake and put together a magnificent salad or even a baked potato, but pasta was somehow beyond him. It probably had something to do with how everything melted at different temperatures and waiting forty-minutes. He wasn't the most patient person when he had to cook.

"Did you pull that out of thin air just to prove me wrong?" Peter asked, his head still tilted back so he could see her.

This time she just refused to laugh because Peter didn’t need any ego stroking, let alone think she thought he was funny. "Why yes Peter, I can pull food out of nowhere," sarcasm dripped from her every word. "Or I could have just found it in the back of your pantry." She broke off another shard and started chewing.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked as he watched her chew the dry pasta. That could not have been very tasty. "You realize, Lydia, that you could have just ordered pizza right?"

"But then I would have to wait," she pointed out in a bored tone. Why wait when she could satisfy the need now?

"Good things are worth waiting for," Peter idly drolled out as he tilted his head back to rest, closing his eyes and propping his feet up on the ottoman in front of him.

She collapsed into one of his chairs, turning so her back was propped up against one arm and her legs over the other. "And yet instant gratification is so very satisfying."

"Only in the short term," was his response.

Lydia stared at her feet for a few seconds as she chewed, then with an easy motion kicked off both her shoes—each hitting the wall with a satisfying thunk—not really understanding how she’d stood those blasé flats for so long, heels were what she needed. Heels that made her legs look like they went on forever and would make even Peter Hale drool.

"That has really yet to be determined." Like she would take his word for anything at the moment.

Peter's had swiveled, barely cracking one eye open, so he could see where she was. "What you doing Lydia?"

That question probably had a lot of different meanings if someone really wanted to get into it. What was she doing eating pasta? What was she doing talking about gratification? What was she doing in his chair? What was she doing staying at his place? What was she doing in life? And honestly, even Peter wasn't sure which one he'd meant right now.

She kicked her feet in the air, wondering what color she should paint her toenails. "Thinking about myself for a change," she answered lightly. It was kind of liberating actually.

"That's something you should have been doing this whole time," Peter said in a bland tone; it's what he'd been doing after all.

In a brief bout of annoyance she flicked a shard of pasta at his head. She didn’t want to be like him at all. Peter brushed it off of his face and decided that maybe she needed a few buttons pressed instead of idle conversation.

"Are you still angry at Nat?"

The pasta shard she was chewing on jabbed into her mouth and she grimaced. "Oh I don’t know Peter, why wouldn’t I? After all she straight up told me I wasn’t her daughter, that she didn’t even have one. Why wouldn’t that make me angry?" Tossing aside the pasta box she stood up and went over to her suitcase, opening it up she grabbed a pair of heels and slipped them on; they weren’t as tall as she’d like, but they’d do for now. "You’re taking me out to dinner," she told him blithely.

"I worked that out already, I was just waiting for you to realize it,” Peter replied with a cocky grin.

"Good," she answered with a ‘sweet’ smile. She knew he was most likely doing it for his own reasons, but that didn’t stop the curl of pleasure from someone doing what _she_ wanted for a change rising up. That happened far less often than it should; but she was drawing the line here.

Peter stood up off the couch and started to the door all in one movement. He picked the keys back up, ignoring the bags by the door, and looked back to Lydia with a 'come' kind of expression. It wasn't exactly demanding, though there was that too, so much as expectant. He turned back to forward facing as he opened the door before heading out of it.

Lydia had long ago perfected the art of rushing without looking like you were actually rushing; a must when everyone towered above her and tended to take larger steps. So she easily caught up to, and passed Peter, sashaying all the while.

He’d grabbed his keys, which implied they _weren’t_ going to the bistro he’d mentioned earlier; but then again she’d rather not be made a fool, and at the moment she was far too proud to ask. So instead she slowed her step when she got outside, allowing Peter to ‘catch up’.

Of course, Peter being...well, Peter. took his time. He walked at his own pace. Normally it was a brisk one but because Lydia had sped up ahead of him, he decided now was the _perfect_ time to see the ivory flowers laid into the cream colored walls. Which, of course, meant that she would just have to wait for him to catch up—oh darn, what a travesty.

Not bothering to hide her annoyance Lydia marched back up to Peter and snatching the keys from his hand shoved them into her cleavage and then walked right back out, starting to make her way around the block.

Peter looked at his empty hand and then at Lydia, trying to figure out if that had just happened. After a moment of confusion he decided—yes, yes it had. He didn't know if he was annoyed or amused and so the breath that forced itself out of his nose in a bit of a huff was a mixture of both. He quickened his pace to keep up with the headstrong redhead.

The sound of Peter’s footsteps moving to catch up, made her bite her lip to keep from smiling. That would teach him to keep her from waiting, though it might be fun to see how far she could push him before he started to fray.

"They’d better have good food," not that she’s ever known Peter to have poor taste; still it’s a good goad.

Peter's look was rather expressive as he turned to her, his head jerking back ever so slightly with his silent question. The whole 'who do you think I am?' kind of look spread over his face was a mixture of disbelief and more than a bit of judgmental attitude. Considering that they were walking under plenty of street lights it should have been easy for even Lydia to see.

It was starting to get _really_ hard not to smile. Feeling the best sort of satisfaction at getting one over on Peter. Really, if this was how she felt doing it she should have started poking holes in Peter long ago. Once they'd gotten to the place in the courtyard bistro behind the condo complex, Peter absentmindedly held the door open. And then when he realized what he was doing a somewhat disturbed expression drifted over his face. Domestics with Lydia. Again. How did he fall into this trap?

His expression hardly bothers her as she swans past him, if he wants to have a crisis he’s more than willing to, just so long as he doesn’t drag her into it, again.

The host came up. His outfit was a simple white button up with black slacks but considering that was what everyone was wearing, though there was one female waitress who had on a black skirt instead, it was easy to see that was the uniform. He had pulled two menus, each only a single page, out before greeting them. "Table for two?"

Peter nodded. "We'd prefer to sit outside."

"Inside," Lydia contradicted. It was starting to cool down outside, and she didn’t want to freeze.

"Outside," Peter said firmly to the host who seemed very uncertain. Then he looked down to Lydia, "Wait till you see the patio garden. We can move inside if it gets too uncomfortable."

She rolled her eyes, like she cared about patio gardens. Who did he think she was, a landscaper? "Inside," she said to the waiter with a smile.

Peter shook his head and rolled his eyes back at her. He was _not_ going to sit inside. Not after the last time; the outside was a more enjoyable experience. Which was exactly why he'd just started walking towards where the patio door was on the side of the bistro.

The waiter looked between them, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of their spat, but wanting to do his job. Lydia smiled at him again. "Just ignore him," she told him lightly. "A table for two, inside." Peter would just have to get with the program later it seemed, intent as he was to walk towards this patio garden of his.

Lydia should have known better. Peter was far too stubborn; he wasn't like Jackson who caved on watching the notebook for the millionth time. So he'd merely taken up a seat on the patio which was surrounded by ivy climbing up the lattice walls. Of course it was still within eyesight of where Lydia had chosen to sit as he could see through the window, but she didn't have to be made aware of that.  

When Peter didn’t join her Lydia wasn’t too bothered, after all she could enjoy a good meal alone, possibly even more. She picked up her menu and let her eyes scan it, only half listening to the waiter rattle off the specials.

"I’ll have the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake," she interrupted. Life was short, she might as well indulge herself. "But just water to drink. She’d rather not try her luck with alcohol, and not just because he might card her. She handed back her menu. "And it’ll be on his tab." Even if he doesn’t join her, she’s going to make him pay for her food.

Like the brief thought brought his attention to her, she can feel his gaze on her. She can nearly feel the annoyance coming off him, even though they’re quite far apart. Well, her cheesecake would improve her mood greatly.

Her feeling his irritation could be because of the bond, if she had ever asked him about it he _might_ have told her. Honestly, Peter wasn't sure what to have expected with being connected with a banshee. He wasn't even sure how long it could last for this time. Or alternatively the reason she could feel his irritation was because that was just how annoyed he was.

He tried to put on a semblance of politeness, or at least uncaring, as the waiter made it out to him. He waved off the menu and ordered. The clam chowder sounded good to him at the moment; he normally wasn't one for anything other than red meat. Along with the fresh bread and a side salad. Oh, and the blackberry pie he'd smelled walking into the place. If Lydia only wanted dessert then she was going to be in for a bit of a wait because he planned on enjoying the meal.

Lydia let her gaze drift around the bistro, it’s a nice atmosphere, but not as ‘high class’ as she’d prefer. As she looks around her eye catches that of another patron; he’s cute in a hipster sort of way—though she’s certainly not going to take him home or go with him if he offers.

She gives him a shade of a welcoming smile. It’d be enjoyable to flirt with someone who actually might be interested in getting in her, metaphorical, pants.

Peter could see that smile of hers and knew what was to come. He shook his head as he sipped on his water. That poor man would never know what hit him. And try as he might, there was that little wiggling feeling in the bottom of his gut that wasn't for pitying the man. It was the possessive worm that underlaid actual emotion which he was trying to do his very best to ignore. For the most part, it was working. Or at least it was working enough for him to continue solely as a spectator.

Finally after a bit more silent back and forth the guy approached her,"Hi. Mind if I join you?"

She gave him a smirk of a smile. "Not at all. I’m," for a brief moment she almost gave him her actual name, but, well, she didn’t _want_ to. "Ivy." Why not?

On the patio, Peter almost snorted but he hid it well in a bite of bread, which had just been brought out with his soup and salad.

"Jake," he replied as he pulled out the chair across from her and sits, setting down his pint of beer. "So, do you come here often?"

Instead of rolling her eyes she laughed, light and airy. "No, it’s my first time here." She batted her eyelashes and leaned forward a little. "The menu caught my eye, and well, I’ve been craving something sweet," she graced him with another meaning filled smile.

"Well the desserts here are pretty good, maybe we could share?" Oh, he was almost _adorable_.

"I don’t know," she made a little moue. "I’m quite possessive when it comes to raspberries." She puts emphasis on ‘rasp’, bringing to mind other things that might rasp, say, against skin.

Peter had the urge to say something, so he did. Even while knowing that maybe Lydia had learned to use her hearing after all. Or maybe it was because he thought she might have. The world may never know. "But not your cherries. Tsk tsk."

Lydia did hear, but all it did was make her cackle with glee on the inside; cherries were a lot of work for little gain. Hardly worth bothering about; in either sense. Virginity, after all, was just a stupid social construct. Jake quickly pulled her attention back to him. "I get ya, my roommate _hates_ to share his popcorn.”

_Whatever_ , Lydia found herself thinking. Lucky her, her cheesecake arrived; looking like the most decadent gift from on high. She gave the tiniest of pleased sighs. "You don’t mind, do you?" Her voice had gone a little breathy, probably insinuating more than just eating when he wasn’t.

And from the way Jake blushed he picked up on it, taking a sudden, and long, pull from his beer. "Naw, go right ahead."

Picking up her fork she drove it in and pulled away a bite. The moment it hit her tongue she closed her eyes, the flavors overflowing in her mouth. She didn’t even care about Jake anymore, the cheesecake was _that_ good. "Mmmm," pure bliss.

"You're going to get the boy into an awkward situation," Peter said in a mildly helpful tone; who it was helpful was up for debate.

Not even Peter’s sarcasm can reach her right now, not that she cares what sort of state the guy works himself into over her. That’s half the point of this anyways.

"So, uh, good then?" Jake stammered out.

Lydia laughed again, this time richer and more indulgent. She ran her fork through the whipped cream on top of her cheesecake and smiled. "The best," she raised her fork to her mouth and licked away the whipped cream it had collected. "And I’m sorry,"—no she wasn’t—"but this is far too good to share with _anyone_." She took another bite, transporting herself to into bliss once more.

Peter rolled his eyes once more. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the back of the man's head. This whole game was both amusing and annoying; Lydia always had to make everything complicated. With a sigh, Peter rolled his head from one side to the other as he took a much more predatory posture. Depending how in-tune the boy's survival skills were, he'd pick up on it sooner or later.

It was hard to miss Jake’s little shiver. "Cold?" She asked lightly, highly doubting it.

"I must be,” he frowned a little though, like he doubted his answer. "I always forget how cold it gets here."

Lydia managed to keep her snort of amusement soft. "Maybe you should be drinking coffee then." Beer dilated blood vessels, which of course cooled you down; granted she was certain his shiver wasn’t from the cold. Though why Peter might be working himself into a snit was beyond her. It wasn’t as if he had any _real_ sort of claim on her; even if they were ‘pack’.

Jake shook his head. "No way Ivy, I’m a caffeine free sort of guy. It’s a drug, you know."

"Right to your door with a bible in hand," Peter snarked quietly.

Biting back a sharp retort she took another bite of her dessert.

"Naw, it’s kombucha and smoothies all the way for me." He gave what was probably supposed to be a wry smile."And beer."

Plastering her realest fake smile across her face Lydia took another bite of cheesecake instead of pointing out that kombucha, by its very nature of being derived from tea, had caffeine in it. "I’m not much of a drinker myself," not legally anyways.

Jake’s _nod_ grated on her. "That’s cool. So, what do you do? You a student? Work?"

"And here comes the oh so corny windup. Lydia, the kid is out of his league, put him out of his misery," Peter said before he sipped on his water.

If Lydia hears Peter she doesn’t actually pay attention to the words, just the fact that his annoyance is grating on her. And that she’s enjoying this less and less. "Do you know what felicific calculus is?" She asks, sidestepping his questions entirely.

Jake blinks at her. "That’d be a no."

"It’s a type of math to figure out whether or not an act is moral or not from the amount of pain or pleasure it produces. And right now, you’re starting to drag this into the dolors." Not even caring if he understood her explanation she took her last bite of cheesecake, stood, and walked out the door.

A few steps later she fished Peter’s keys out from her bra and spinning the ring a few times around a finger, she whistled a brief tune as she headed back into Peter’s complex, letting herself into his condo and locking the door behind her.

Peter had watched her go, pretty much drilling holes into her back with the intensity. Did she really think that playing those games was going to get her what she wanted? Though, for all he knew what she wanted was a distraction. And there had been plenty of those over so what was one more boy? But if it was something she wanted from him then she would have to learn to be _better_ at her game or at least to change the field. Or so he kept telling himself...something about that wasn't quite matching up internally.

Once Peter finished up his food, he got up and paid for the meal as well as the dessert that Lydia had ordered. The waiter almost looked like he was going to wait around for it so he didn't bother waiting around once he was done. The werewolf strode out into the night air and caught Lydia's scent easily. It wasn't that old. Maybe twenty minutes at max. But the fact that she had decided to go storming out in the middle of the night, in Beacon Hills (the town that liked to see people die), was annoying. When she put herself in danger like that, she put him in danger. He was not okay with that.

And, yes, that's what he was using to justify his irritation with tonight ladies and gentleman. It was the excuse he _always_ used when it came to the entity named Lydia Martin.  

Since making herself at home in his apartment she'd changed into some of her pajamas and had docked her phone in Peter's stereo, blaring mashups throughout the apartment as she danced and shimmied along.

Once Peter got to his apartment, he'd already been clued in to the fact that Lydia was having herself some fun. His neighbors might not have been able to hear her, because that's what good insulation was for, but he did. Then again his hearing was almost always set on 'cheat' so that wasn't that big of a surprise.

He reached down for the knob to open the door, only to find out that it was locked. Irrationally a growl bubbled up from deep in his chest. She had locked _his_ door on _him_.

Her music started shifting from mashups to 80s hair metal, and she found herself singing along; if with more enthusiasm than her usual talent. "And I want! And I need! And I lust. Animal!" She leaped up and down on the couch acting like she was playing air guitar.

...she had locked his door and she was messing with his music. Was nothing sacred‽

"Lydia...open the door," Peter said in a deep voice, trying to get back to a point of indifference.

She heard Peter, but she was going to pretend like she hadn't. "Cry wolf, baby cry tough. Gonna hunt you down like an, an, an, animal!"

"Lydia don't make me do it myself," Peter said as he took in a deep breath.

It was such a nice door. Italian if he remembered correctly. And the handle was finely crafted as well. He would hate to have to bust it open himself. Plus there was the fact that it was _his_ and Peter had a thing against damaging his own things. Not to mention it would have shown a lack of control over the situation and that wasn't something he wanted to broadcast either.

Oh, she _wanted_ him to do it himself, get him to experience what it was like to get frustrated and annoyed. So she just kept on singing and dancing

"I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry, what could I do! My baby's love had gone and left my baby blue! Nobody knew! What kind of magic spell to use." So very true.

Peter's hand went to grab the doorknob again. It rattled a bit as he tried one more time. The doorknob stopped moving, however, when Peter decided to try a new approach. Needless to say, about five minutes later he was letting himself in through the window of his bedroom. There was many perks to being a werewolf and the cover of night allowed for a lot of freedoms that the day didn't.

Peter came down his stairs, practically skipping, as he whistled the song that Lydia had on.

"Put that magic jump on me! Slap that baby make him free!" Spinning around she saw Peter at the foot of the stairs."I should slap you," she said blithely, acting like his sudden appearance was to be expected.

"Last I checked this was my apartment. Which you, Lydia, tried to keep me out of."

She did a little shimmy and jump. "So? That's not a crime, and anyways," a smile bared her teeth. "It was fun, I wish I could've seen you face when you realized what just happened." That was what he got for letting her keep his keys.

"How'd you get in anyways?" She asked as nonchalantly as possible. Still more concerned really with enjoying herself.

"I huffed, and I puffed and I let myself in," Peter remarked with a whiplash sort of humor as he made his usual sort of hand gestures. "I'm a werewolf, Lydia, how do you think?"

She laughed, "Pretty sure if you'd really huffed and puffed I would have felt it," her grin turns salacious.

Peter raised his eyebrow at that insinuation.

"Did you bring that water back with us?" Peter asked as his expression remained inquisitive.

"Noooo," she pouted. "We should have though," she did a little bump and grind. "That would have been _fun_!"

"No thank you," Peter said as he stayed in his spot, very mindful of the fact that something about Lydia was off.

She was forward and bold but she wasn't _this_. Especially not with him. Of course, he was excluding that one night because that had been under the influence of the Incubus.  "Don't you have a home to get to? Or were you planning on moving in with me?" Peter asked with a mild sarcasm coloring his voice.

The music changed to hardcore dubstep and Lydia swayed. "Mom doesn't think I exist anymore," she said with toneless glee. "She forgot to clap her hands and say she believed in fairies." She leapt off from the back of the couch.

"Ah, the curse of the banshee," Peter's tone was almost _playful_ in a dark, sadistic way. "I was under the impression that it took longer than that. I suppose that's a compliment to your abilities."

She gave an unhappy smile, "Mother can you hear me? Thanks for the disease!" she sang angrily. Lydia might know the cure, but that didn't mean she was willing to take it.

"Must you be so dramatic?" Peter asked as he rolled his eyes with all the attitude that he could muster.

"Life's no fun without any drama Peter," she sashayed towards him.

"Life is no fun when there's too much drama," Peter countered as he kept a wary eye on the girl.

If he didn't know any better, he would say that Lydia was stone cold drunk. But he couldn't smell anything that would have lead to that situation. There was no alcohol on her breath, nor in the air. There wasn't even the scent of wolfsbane—which he would have recognized asleep at this point in his life. What kind of a werewolf couldn't smell wolfsbane?

She stopped right in front of him and turned her face up to smile at him. "Well I like living dangerously now, dementia's just around the corner after all." Once again her smile went bitter.

Peter held up his finger, "only if you have a daughter and she lives long enough to get her powers."

"Knowing my luck," she sing songed. "It'll happen." Or she could bind herself to Peter for the rest of her supernatural life. Which, sure, the hate!sex would be fantastic; but she was too selfish to put herself through the torture of the day to day with him. Ireland proved that at least.

Peter's finger lowered as he shrugged. He wasn't going to dispute the fact that she had horrible luck. "You can't run from reality forever, Lydia. The sooner you face it, the sooner you can conquer it. You've already conquered death...how hard can this be?"

A noncommittal hum left her, her hands rising up to wrap around his neck. "Who said I was running? Maybe I've just been playing hard to get."

Peter looked down at her as he searched her eyes, entirely perplexed at the new turn. His body was stiff from the fact that she had willingly come up to touch him, willingly looped her arms around his neck. It wasn't from necessity...what was she playing at? Better question of the moment was: what was playing with her? He couldn't see anything showing head trauma. Nor the slightly hazed look of something being inside her mind. He couldn't smell any outside influences or hear anything either. At least nothing that wouldn't have been all natural from Lydia if he believed this circumstance. Which he didn't, not for a second. He'd been burned one too many times before even if it wasn't by her.

She found herself frowning at his reaction; this wouldn't be so fun if he's so unresisting. A little hesitance was all well and good, but not outright reluctance. "Why the long face?" She took about half a step closer, which was all she really could take without pressing herself against him.

His look was down right suspicious, "What's gotten into you?"

"A reality check." She responded tartly, a hint of anger in her voice.

"A reality check that puts you in my personal space?" His tone was challenging as he refrained from putting his hands anywhere, which ended up feeling very unnatural to him but he was going to pretend otherwise.

She batted her eyelashes at him. "Why not? Gotta look after myself, no one else is planning to."

Again, she was making valid points. What was confusing was how those points included _him_. Unless he was mistaken she still didn't know about how much her welfare was his concern and he had planned to keep it that way. So what was with this turn around? What had infected her between the airplane ride home and now?

"This explanation ought to be interesting," Peter prompted her with the tone of his voice.

He decided maybe trying to distance her away from him was the better idea. If he didn't know any better he'd have to say she was acting like a bitch in heat. Considering it was about that time that wouldn't have been surprising for a _werewolf_ but Lydia wasn't even remotely similar.

"Go on, I'm listening," he was challenging her mentally, trying to engage the rational side of Lydia, even though he'd started to try and physically distance her away. "Impress me."

A moue of distaste crossed her face, "what else is there to explain?" She finally pressed herself against him, enjoying the heat radiate off him. "Mmmm. You already know the whole story."

"I know _a_ story. I don't know the whole story."

Oh look, he was admitting to a failing. Well desperate times called for desperate measures. Peter had never been a poster child for _this_ kind of restraint after all. And everyone who had ever met him would know better than to bank on any sort of upstanding morality to stop him from doing something.

"Who cares about the whole story?" This was really starting to annoy her. "Girls just wanna have fun after all."

"And boys tend to not want to wake up to screaming in the morning," Peter said in a clipped tone.

She managed to shift herself half an inch closer, "Oh Peter, the only reason I'll be screaming is because of what you'll be doing to me at the time."

"Whatever _this_ is, it's not your best idea," Peter said.

He could have made more of an effort to resist but the teenage side of him, which had never _truly_ died no matter how many times he said otherwise, had different ideas all together. It was easy to see how those ideas were forming in his head given what was going on. Someone once said: Lydia gets what Lydia wants...and that seemed to continue to be true.

"Who cares if this is a good idea or not, doesn't mean I won't enjoy it either way," she pushed herself up, not that it did much to bridge the gap between their faces.

"You're playing with fire," he said in a tight, but quiet voice. The truth of the matter was that he was the one playing with fire and he knew that all too well.

"Well then I guess it's a good thing I run cold then." Christ, you'd think he would've taken the hint by now instead of hemming and hawing like a grandma getting ready to barter.

Peter's hands tightened on her shoulders from where he'd been attempting to maneuver her away from him. What a lot of good that had done. Then again he'd been trying to not hurt her at all which was probably his downfall. Either way he had fallen and he had never been one to ignore a good fall.

His hand slide from her arm to under her chin, holding her gaze up as they paused there. He continued to search her eyes and her scent for any sign of something having gone wrong. His nose even brushed up against her cheek as he tried to figure it out, the gesture normally as informative as it was affectionate. Unfortunately for him he gleaned nothing else.

A pleased hum left Lydia at the first of many touches; with a sigh, she tilted her face, baring her neck. One of her hands slid up to tangle in his hair, nails scratching slightly against his scalp. Peter's other hand slipped down ever so slowly, his fingers practically teasing every inch of flesh it came across. He slowly looped his arm around her lower back as his other hand slid down her neck. His mouth turned up into a bit of a smile when he felt her nails digging into his scalp.

"Just so we're clear," Peter said as he brushed past the side of her lips with his own. "You _didn't_ have the flower after all."

Well...so much for making it a serious moment.

A sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh left her. "There never was a flower," she gasped in his ear; wrapping one of her legs around his; annoyed that they were rehashing this _again_.

"That's _your_ opinion," Peter commented.

His hand trailed back around her waist and down her thigh as he moved over ever so slightly. The bowl where his keys normally went sat atop a small, modern looking end table. It had one drawer which he pulled open quickly and produced a single flower. It looked exactly like the one he had given her in her hallucinations, only this one was real and it was made out of a fabric to mimic the petal nearly perfectly. He moved his face back away from hers momentarily to hold the flower up even as his other hand went to support her weight to help ease her tension.

Blowing cool air at her nose, Peter waited for her to notice the flower. "This time, try not to lose it."

She stared at the flower, disbelief and something like amused outrage flickering through her faster than she can really experience them. "Maybe I don't want your flower," she responded tartly. The other day he'd been more than happy to keep things between them impersonal, and now he was trying to bring feelings into the mix?

"You just don't want me to be right," Peter quipped back. "But fine...if you don't want the get out of jail free card…"

He put it back towards where his keys were supposed to be. It looked rather nice sitting in the bowl all by itself.

"I _am_ a bad girl." She wiggled. "You could lock me up, throw away the key. Make me do all sorts of _horrible, dreadful_ things to win free."

The kiss he used to bring her speech to a halt was soft, very strange given their history. But when he pulled back with a smirk it was obvious that he was teasing her with that.

"Wouldn't you hate it more if I didn't?" He asked as he brushed his lips to her cheek and then whispered in her ear. "I'm not going to have to _make_ you do anything...you'll do it because you want to."

She had to lean her weight on him on more fully, or risk collapsing from weak knees. "Promises, promises." Dragging her lips across his cheek she set her teeth in his ear. "Now why don't you actually _do_ something for a change, hmmm?"

His hand came back from setting the flower down and gripped her other thigh. But he was going to give her one more chance before he moved them. "Last chance Lydia. You can walk out the door and pretend you never did this...or not."

She laughed low in his ear. "Are you giving me an out, or yourself Peter? I never took you for a shrinking violet." granted he was a coward, but this was different; especially considering how often he teased _her_ in a sexual manner.

At the tone of her voice, Peter's smirk overrode anything else on his face. His claws pulled at the fabric, making slow and deliberate cuts. Lydia gasped at the feel of his claws lightly grazing her skin, threat and promise all in one.

He was going to take that as a 'no, let's go' because he had never been one for a high standard of morality. He had tried, that was the best anyone would ever get out of him. Lydia had only enough time to process just what had become of part of her sleepwear, before Peter started right up the stairs. His hands worked to move her more to a comfortable carrying position than the mounted one she'd taken even as they rounded the open landing of the staircase.

Her position grew tenuous as he began to move, but when he started rearranging her she gladly helped...well when she had the chance, what with all the nibbling on his neck and biting at his jaw she was doing. "I don't know why," she muttered against his artery. "You're passing up all these perfectly fine vertical and horizontal surfaces Peter," even though she knew it wouldn't do anything she set her teeth into the skin of his neck and bit down.

"There are some things that deserve to be done _right_ the first time, Lydia," He said in a voice that wasn't even disguising it's indecent intent anymore.

She let go of his neck and moaned quietly. "Who cares about _right_ ? Let's have _fun_."

"Patience is a virtue that you're going to learn tonight," Peter commented as he sat her down on the plush white and gray bedding. "First you have to know what's _right_ to know what is _wrong._ "

"But it's spring break, I don't have to learn anything I don't want to," she pouted as her back hit the bed. With the bed to brace herself against she undulated against him.

He didn't say anything as he knelt down, spreading her legs so he had a place to rest. Peter's hands gripped her knees to keep her from being able to move too easily. His lips touched the ball of her knee, spreading feather touches along the skin all the way up to the top of the shorts. Shuddering gasps left her at the teasing touches, her legs attempted to move, but his strength was greater than hers.

His hands moved down to hold her calves as he played around the edge of the fabric, nose brushing it up oh so teasingly. Her hands wove back into his hair, this time gripping much more tightly. "Peter..." A note of warning entered her voice, though it wasn't so effective when it was interrupted by a tiny whimper.

Peter nipped against her skin, teeth dull but not weak by any means. He didn't break the skin or even leave a mark but it was enough to remind her that this was his turn. He had a promise to keep after all—she was going to do things because she wanted to do them but only after he made it a more appealing option.

"And where's those teeth of yours big bad wolf?" She panted, wanting things much harder than he apparently was willing to give.

His hands loosened around her calves as he pulled her a little more off of the bed so her balance was questionable at best. Peter slid upwards, hands and lips brushing wherever they connected with Lydia's body until he was eye to eye with her.

"I'm not _angry_ right now," Peter quipped. "We have plenty of time for it to be...rough later. I can promise you that much."

Now that they were face to face Lydia darted in, giving him as bruising a kiss as she could manage. "Who cares about later, when we can do it now?"

"Rule one of taking care of yourself is to always have a plan. And _I_ plan for this to be an adventurous night for our mutual satisfaction, don't you?"

"I’ll drink to that," she panted against his cheek. "But see," somehow she managed to get her tone to sound more like it usually did, and not like Peter was having a grand old time playing with her. "Satisfaction to me is you fucking me so hard I actually experience _le petit mort_...multiple times."

Taking advantage of the fact that he’d let go of her legs she wrapped them around his waist and ground herself against him.

Peter's jaw clenched as Lydia teased him. Though really could it be considered teasing if there was little chance of this stopping before one and or both of them didn't have the energy to continue? Probably not. So maybe she wasn't teasing him but she she was trying to push his buttons to have her way. She, like him, enjoyed being in control. Which was going to make the night that much more interesting.

"Then why…" Peter trailed off as he pushed one of the straps to her shirt down and around her shoulder, "are you trying to argue with me?"

She shrugged her shoulders sliding the straps down further and lowering the neckline. "Because you don't seem all that interested it giving me what _I_ want." She rocked her hips again, half trying to drive him to distraction.

"Sweetheart, after tonight you'll realize that's the furthest thing from the truth," Peter said.

Though he knew that if she had her way, which he had to admit she was trying very hard and it was starting to work, then she was going to win. And while he was sure it would still satisfy the both of them he had something better in mind. In fact, it might have just been him working on his own ego once more because he planned on ruining pretty much every other relationship she got in. It was always nice to know that every other guy was going to get compared to him and be found wanting. They always were. Well, except on the emotions and safety side; he hadn't really put too much work into that part of a relationship.

"Well at the moment you're all talk," she shrugged her shoulders again, revealing a nipple. "So I'm hardly feeling confident in your...abilities." She looked at him through her eyelashes.

Peter's hand moved up from Lydia's shoulder, slowly. His fingers slid through her hair as his palm cupped the side of her neck, thumb brushing along her ear. She really should have known better than to try and bait him with a challenge. Had he ever really taken those up? Unless, of course, they served his purpose. Which this one might have but, oh well.

He brought his lips back down to hers, taking the bottom one between the fangs he said he wasn't going to bring out and nipped without breaking the skin. He moved down to her chin, tilting his head to better reach her neck. In the curve of the voice box, he pressed his tongue, feeling the vibration that came from something as simple as breathing out through the mouth.

She...wasn't sure she liked this slow intimacy, she wanted hard and fast and reckless. Blood and just the right amount of pain. She arched and rubbed her whole front against him, not minding the scratch of his clothes; at least it was _something_. "Now come on Peter, I didn't think you were _this_ much of a _man_." She has to wonder if that taunt will work, none of her others have. Maybe she should get him on _his_ back, ride him until he begged to be in control again.

"Apparently more than anyone else you've been with," Peter taunted back.

But before there was too much time for her to come back with a witty comeback, Peter used his free hand to turn her over onto her stomach with one arm pinned down onto the mattress. He rose up her body quickly and nipped at her neck. "Mmmmmm," Lydia gasped, arching back against his bite. "That's more like it."

"You're becoming quite the adrenaline junky," Peter chided her with a dark amusement coloring his voice.

"Not adrenaline," she panted, wanting more. " _Pleasure_."

" _Me_ ," he corrected, voice low and directly into her ear.

She hummed noncommittally, "maybe. But I've yet to be convinced." She wiggled.

"Everything you've done recently says otherwise," was his retort.

He pressed his body down along hers, clothes and all, to pin her to the bed. That and to make a point; what kind of a point that was, was open to interpretation. Maybe it was about control. Maybe it was what was below his non-existent belt. Or maybe it was just about the body heat. The world would never know.

A soft whimper left her and she bared her neck as the press, _this_ was what she wanted; someone else taking the control from her. "We'll I'm certain you're good for a fuck Peter. It's just the quality that's up in the air."  She's amazed she sounded so in control of herself.

"Half of the fun of a hunt is the anticipation, Lydia."

Peter pulled back just a bit so his hands could quickly pull her shirt up, giving her little time to get used to that idea or move her arm for herself. If she wanted him to be rougher instead of trying to be more _human_ about it, then he was far beyond denying that. But that didn't mean he was going to hand the reigns over to her.

She squirmed again at his actions, though to relieve the growing ache in her, rather than 'fight' him. Although if he interrupted it as that she wasn't going to correct him; after all this was exactly what she wanted. "Well I don't feel much like prey at..." Her taunt is cut off by a moan. Internally she grins, she couldn't have planned that better if she tried.

"You should," Peter reminded her before his hand, claws and all, trailed down her spine. "How much do you like these?"

Of course, 'these' happened to be her pajama pants. Which already had claw marks in them from before they got up to the room. But he felt that it was only right to offer her the ability to salvage them. Then again, he could think of a lot of things to do with the scraps he could turn them into.

"Asking?" She gave throaty laugh. "How _monstrous_." She even managed to sound unimpressed.

"I'll take that as not very much," Peter murmured against her skin as he slid a claw into the already damaged area, tugging up as his hand pushed back up; ripping them all the way up to the waist band.

Her legs slid apart as she moaned, rubbing her slit against the bed, attempting to get stimulation. Peter pinned her hips against the bed with his own as he punctured and ripped the waist band apart, pushing her pants down to her knees. Or at least what was left of them, just enough to keep her from having the full range of motion in her legs. Not that, given their position, there was very much to begin with.

She squirmed again, trying to spread her legs further, but Peter's weight and her ruined pants kept her from it. A needy whine tore from her throat. Happy to beg for more, needing him to give her what she wanted. Withdrawing his hands, Peter drew back. It wasn't for very long as he simply removed his shirt. Bending back down, Peter's hands first cut the bond between the leggings of what used to be her pajama pants before he slid them underneath Lydia to spread out across her stomach. He pulled her up so she could bend her knees. As he kept one hand on her stomach, one hand slipped much farther below.

She fell limp into his manhandling, loving every moment of it. “ _Please._ ” she moaned, spreading her legs and falling onto her forearms, displaying herself wantonly. Loving that hint of a touch, but wanting more. “ _Peter_ ,” she moaned, his name, and control, the only thing that mattered in her mind at the moment.

Peter pushed upwards from the hips, rocking against her with his pants still on. His roaming hand distinctively moved down utilizing the force of the rocking body to it's full advantage. She pushed back against him.

"In a hurry?" he asked in a deepened voice, a mix of a smile and a smirk on his lips as he tucked his chin over her shoulder.

She whined again, this was what she wanted, true, but there was always a little part of her that wanted to keep goading; wondering if there was even more she could push, if this could be even _more_.

Once more Peter slid backwards, his bare chest rubbing against her naked back. As he undid his pants and shifted his weight so he could pull them down and off of his legs, taking his shoes with them in the process, Peter spoke out: "Grab the headboard, Lydia."

Her mind went a little blank at his words, before pleasure tore through her. Her arms gave out and she fell on the bed, with a little moan she reached out, trying to do her best to obey him.

Peter's hands curled around Lydia's ribcage as he aligned their bodies. For a second it might have seemed like the entrance was going to be slow. Right up until the point where he pushed forward with more power than anyone had a right having while being on their knees. Considering that the force would have pushed Lydia forward up into the headboard, it was no wonder that he'd so _politely_ advised her to grab onto it instead.  

“ _Yes,_ ” she gasped, her hands wrapped around the bars of the headboard as Peter shoved her forward with his entrance. His cock exactly what she wanted, hard and insistent, filling her almost more than was comfortable; exactly how she wanted it. She tilted her torso down further, changing the angle and, _ooohh_ , there was her g-spot; she could feel her shoulders start to strain, but that made it better. “More, _please_ ,” she begged shamelessly.

As he moved backwards, Peter moved one hand to hold onto her shoulder and the other her hip. That way, for his next thrust, he was able to hold her in place. He gripped her hip tighter as he pulled back to shove forward once more, his hand on her shoulder keeping her from hitting her head. Though that was really an afterthought; it had started out as a way to have better leverage. Plus feeling her pulse, which thundered away in the nearby vein, was the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae.

The hands, the strength of his thrusts, she throws her head back, baring her neck again. “ _Close_ ,” she whimpered, more to herself than anything. Spreading her legs even further, feeling a strain there now too, though pleasure quickly consumed it. “ _So close_ ,” needing him to give a little more; and by give she meant take.

As he sunk into her, Peter rolled his hips to increase the friction. Though as he felt, more than heard, what Lydia was saying he slowed down the pace. If he couldn't torture her the whole duration he was going to settle on just a bit of tortuously slow thrusts at the end.

“Noo,” she cried out, both loving and hating him slowing down. “Peeter,” she rocked her hips, trying to tempt him to speed up again.

Instead of speeding up he shortened the thrusts, slow and short and ever so taunting as he dragged out the end for as long as he possible could. Because let's face it, Peter had to be evil at some point and this was pretty much his way of doing it.

She opened her mouth to whine again—it always seemed to goad Peter, probably because it was an animal sound—but almost instantly it got cut off by his first short thrust because it hit right up against her g-spot, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he kept up the assault. “ _Ooooo,”_ she half wondered if he’d get a scream out of her; but the thought was quickly washed away in the storm of pleasure brewing in her.

Now while a scream would not have been welcomed the whines and oos definitely were. With a wicked expression on his face, Peter completely pulled himself out of Lydia. He forced her legs to spread an inch further as he rubbed up and down along the walls. His hand went down to help spread her as he pulsed against her clit. Back and forth between the folds, rubbing and pleasuring them both as he went, as he grit his teeth as he held back his own accompaniment of sounds.

Her legs begged for her to move, slump against the bed, but she fought that urge. Her hips rocked against nothing, wanting to be filled. But Peter’s movements still pushed her over the edge. “Peter,” she whimpered, her walls contracting and fluttering around nothing, empty pleasure. The worst sort of torture. “ _I need you,_ ” she whined, burying her face in one of his pillows, needing to be filled. Undulating her body, hoping he might slip in by accident. Her head thrashed, her hair falling to one side, and clinging to her sweaty body.

He listened and waited for her response before sinking right back into her to the hilt and picking back up the tempo he had at the start.

She wailed into the pillow as he finally shoved in again, feeling him fight against her orgasm more satisfying than she would have thought possible.

Within minutes, Peter had found his cliff. Without care he jumped off of it, sinking down into her. And though there wasn't anything truly canine about his finish, he didn't bother pulling out as he caught his breath either.

His weight pressed down and she let go of the headboard or risk something in her shoulder tearing. But she didn’t care. This was _wonderful_. “Mmmm,” she purred beneath him, feeling his seed drip from her.

Once he could pretend that he had some composure back, Peter grabbed her hips. Then one hand slid down to her leg so that when he spun her around, ducking under a bent knee, he still didn't have to disconnect. The friction was enough to make him twitch from within her, though even he knew he'd need another minute or two for the refractory period to wear off completely. He was a were _wolf_ , not a were _rabbit_.

A soft squeal of surprise left her as he flipped her over. Her chest heaving under her top as he stared down at her. She stretched, arching up against him, as she purred in pleasure again. “Mmmm, good start.” She surprised herself by speaking. She didn’t even know she had it in her; Peter had gotten more sound out of her than most did, and her throat felt raw.

As he waited, Peter arched his body so he could bend down and finally pay attention to one area that hadn't received any yet. Blunt teeth scraped across the top of her nipple, leaving the other one in the cold and very much exposed. He trailed his mouth down and around until he could feel her heart underneath his lips, taste the sweat which glistened from her body. And as the few minutes every so slowly passed, Peter paid a lot of attention to the dips at the end of her rib cage with his hands and her collarbone with his mouth. Slowly blood pooled back down into his lower region, stiffening him back up. He had Lydia feel every second of that from within.

A shuddering moan left her at his touch, it kept the pleasure in her humming, made her walls ripple around him as he grew and stretched her again. “The best part,” she murmured, spreading her legs wide again. “Mmmm, do me again. I’d like to hope you can do better than that.”

"That was the plan, Sweetheart," Peter said in an 'obviously' sort of tone.

“Goody,” she crooned in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used  
> "Animal" Def Leppard  
> "Magic Dance" David Bowie  
> "Infected" Alexa Vega
> 
> And felicific calculus is a real thing.


End file.
